Long overdue post: Hostel nite

Mandak hostel nite rocks. Has always. Will always.

Inspite of the dean's instructions and threats against having it, this year's hostel nite saw a repeat performance of last year's Raindance™. However, this time not only was it indigenously designed, but it actually performed better, showering more water per square foot than ever. And of course, there was the now-cliched strut and disco lights arrangement, which Mandak proudly introduced in my third year and which has been shamelessly copied by every other hostel nite ever since.

We started by planting a tree in memory of Jhantu in the Mandak yard - May he rest in peace. One by one, we poured water to nourish its roots, and subsequently observed a two-minute silence.

Food Plaza supplied the grub. That itself was not so good, but they also offered unlimited ice-cream, which junta thulped like month-starved pigs. Being a fifth year has its own advantages, primarily that of cutting the line and my Alak guests and I made our way to the ice-cream before dinner had started in earnest.

Most third year get senti at some point or the other, as the night draws in, and the hugging and weeping starts. I remember our third year, when so many of us inconsolably cried ourselves shitless for hours after the toast. But one has to give it to the present batch - there was an excusable amount of senti of course - but I was almost a strangling victim by the hands of Fart.



Raindance™ was followed by the toast, and in another great Mandak tradition, it went on and on - night turned to dawn, dawn to morning - and finally it finished at 6:30 am with none other than yours truly's rape, after which all those remaining went for breakfast to the great Himalaya.

After the roast, going with the senti mood, I recited "Life@IITM", a poem I had written last year for Mandak nite.

Also present on hostel nite were Jha, Banner, TG and Meha. Jha was the wild dancer as ever, a combination of monkey and elephant in heat with his new Medusa hairstyle flailing about like half-crazed octopuses trying to attack a whale. As for the other three; Banner kept popping into the dance floor every now and then; TG clicked away photographs, made not-so-obscure anti-drug references; and Meha spoke with nothing and no one. Seemingly, their minds full of other things, they weren't really enjoying it.

The blast over, we all retired to our rooms for some sweet sleep till 3pm, when another Mandak enthu-fest - the Treasure Hunt - was poised to begin.

But that is another story for another time.